


An American Agent in London

by caprigender



Category: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
Genre: Backstory, Gen, trans tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 06:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3885982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caprigender/pseuds/caprigender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exploration of yet another League of Extraordinary Gentlemen character. Tom Sawyer is a code name. I've made everyone queer again because that's how I roll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An American Agent in London

**Author's Note:**

> A theory I saw that I thought was pretty cool is that Tom Sawyer is a code name and that's why the Tom Sawyer books and LXG movie timelines don't match up. Additionally, I can't believe that the American secret service actually sent agents over to investigate everything given that the U.S. was so isolationist up until after the second world war. Anyhow, this is just a little thing I came up with

Special Agent Becky Thatcher was used to breaking the rules. The Sawyer team had done it enough while still under the thumb of the Secret Service. True, missions were missions, but there was no mission carefully worded enough for Tom not to twist around into something that would suit their own needs. This disobedience was something else entirely. The team had been called back. Well, what was left of the team had been called back. Becky glanced down at the telegram in her hands and back up at her fellow agent. Huck Finn with his lanky dark hair drooping in front of his eyes looked about as terrified as she felt.

“What’s it say?” he asked. Huck had brought the telegram from the front desk of the inn up to their room, but he wasn’t able to read it. “Are they sending reinforcements or anything?”

Becky gulped and with a voice that sounded much steadier than she felt she explained, “No, they’re not coming.” She clenched her jaw, “we are to report back to the States as soon as possible.”

“What?!” Huckleberry stood up and grabbed the slip of paper from Becky’s hands. “But we’re so close! We found the Fantom’s men! We have clues! We’ll have a trail in no time!” The paper crumpled in his shaking hands. “We’re so close, Becky. We’re so close.” He sat back on the bed staring at the words he could not understand.

“Tom knew it was a long shot, Huck,” Becky continued, numbly. “The Service never wanted to get involved in European tensions. We were lucky to get the chance at all.”

“Lucky?” Becky looked over and met Huckleberry’s eyes. They were red and watering already. “Sure are lucky, aren’t we?” He said as his face crumpled. Becky walked over to sit down next to him. Usually she could be optimistic. Usually she would be here as moral support. Usually she could smile all chipper and sing a little song and get Huck giggling in no time. Usually they hadn’t just seen their best friend shot to death. Becky tried not to think about it. She’d seen lots of good men and women die before. She was a secret agent. She’d been a secret agent since she was eleven years old. So had Tom and Huck. They’d seen people shot to death before and much worse.

“Huckle?” she asked, quietly. “My I stay in here and sleep with you tonight?” He nodded. He never would have suggested it on his own, he was already embarrassed enough from crying in front of her. But this was something he needed. The company was something they both needed. “We’ll stay here tonight. We’ll get some rest. Tomorrow… Tomorrow we go after the Fantom.”

\---

Huckleberry awoke the next day to see Becky at the mirror violently sawing a knife through her long blonde curls.

“You need any help with that?”

She jumped and turned around to look at him. “Hey there, sleepyhead. I might actually. You remember about how short Tom’s hair was?”

Huck sat up and pulled himself out of bed. He gently took the knife from Becky’s hand and started cutting, lock by curly lock. “Any particular reason for the sudden change in style?” Becky shrugged and avoided Huck’s gaze in the mirror.

“Seems like it would be easier anyhow. Not as many questions, you know? I’m so tired of wearing skirts, Huck.”

He chuckled, “Well, what are we gonna do with all the ones you’ve got packed then?”

“We could throw them away, I guess. Or sell them. Or you could wear them if you wanted.” This time it was Huckleberry’s turn to avoid Becky’s gaze. He focused on slicing through her hair. He had to take small enough chunks so the knife could get through it in one easy cut. The repetition was hypnotic and soothing. “Huck, if we’re going after the Fantom we can never go home.”

“I know.”

“We’ve bent the rules before, but this is outright desertion.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“No one knows us now, Huckleberry,” Becky continued quietly, “We can be whoever we wanna be.”

Suddenly Huck stopped cutting, uncertain if Becky was saying what he thought she was saying. Their eyes met in the mirror. “Well? Who d’you wanna be?”

Becky fidgeted, “I was thinkin. Well, I was kinda hoping you could call me Tom. Tom Sawyer.” Huck continued cutting. The sound of ripping hair was deafening in the awkward silence.

“Special Agent Tom Sawyer, huh?” Huck smiled sadly at Tom. “His name really fits you, sugar.”

“I always thought it would,” Tom admitted, shrinking a little in embarrassment.

Huck rearranged the mess of blond curls on Tom’s head. “That boyish enough for you?” Tom nodded. “I thought it might be.”

“What about you, Huckleberry? Who do you wanna be?”

Huck shrugged, “Truth is, I like being Huckleberry. It’s been my name since I was eleven, after all. I reckon the habit’s stuck.” He paused, “Could you braid my hair for me? I always like it when you braid my hair.”

The two young men went through the daily ritual in easy silence. Each was focused on their own thoughts. Tom focused on separating the tangled strands of Huckleberry’s hair. And Huckleberry found himself fixated on a discolored spot in the wall paper. Neither said what they knew would have to be said. Neither wanted to breach the topic of how they would have to save the world and avenge their friend without the support of the American government at their backs, however reluctant it had been before. Tom tied off the braid with a strip of cloth and leaned forward to hug his friend around the waist.

“We can do it, Huck.”

“You sound so sure of that.”

“It’s cause I am sure of it.”

Huckleberry shifted and sighed, “You got a plan for us?”

Tom smiled, his cheek pressed up against the warmth of his friend’s back. The gears and wheels in his head had been churning and grinding away since the agents had arrived back at the inn. He wasn’t quite as quick thinking as the previous Tom Sawyer, but he was enough. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

The Fantom would pay for Agent Sawyer’s death. Tom would make sure of that.


End file.
